Notes on Grief 101

Like a teacup with a broken handle, when filled with steaming brew becomes too hot to hold onto, so goes the pain of trying to hold on.

A broom without a handle makes the chore so much more difficult, as you bend to try to clear things up you feel as if you may break in half, trying to fix what can’t be mended.

A shattered windowpane distorts the beauty that is right outside your door, and allows the cold to seep in and chill you to the bone.  That’s how cold it is to sleep alone and to no longer be gathered tightly in a bear hug.

The beauty of a love song no longer soothes but brings tears to your eyes as readily as an acute toothache.

A sparkling bathroom that only dulls with dust is so much harder to clean than the one with toothpaste drips and shaving crumbs.

Phones in the hotel room mock you as you realize you’ve arrived, but have no one to call to reassure.

There has been no surfing in such a while, as the remote remains always just where I left it.

Kitchens outfitted with everything to prepare lovely meals mock me and the dining table is far too big for dinner for one.  The refrigerator stores takeout containers and wine; a reversion to college days, but when just making it through the day is your biggest test, how do you cram for that?

Freedom to go and do as you choose, whenever you choose is as confining as hearing a jail cell door slam shut.

Late night text conversations to share stories of grandchildren, VA visits, life realizations and solving the world's problems, always ending with "Sweet dreams.  I love you" never happen on my smart phone any more.  Between that and no more snoring next to me the darkness is so much quieter.  

Car trips require so much more planning to fill the silence.  Siri doesn’t tell me stories about working on the department or Viet Nam or what called you to convert to Catholicism.  No audio book compares with the dynamics of your voice as you storied your way from here to there, nor do they reach out to grab your hand for the funny parts.

“Just you this evening?” after you have garnered enough courage to dine out alone makes one want to upend the table after saying “Sure, my invisible friend is running just a few minutes late!  Does it look like I have anyone with me?”

Friends blooming in places you never expected, alongside your family and lifelong pals, (the hardy varieties, don’t you know), are the most beautiful sight in your world.  They bring fresh air with them and are reminders that life is good and beautiful.  I know they line the path I need to follow.

Hope, instilled by my parents, through their choices for me, their example for me, their love for me sustains me.

Courage that I witnessed in both my husband and son taught lessons that I would be foolhardy to dismiss.

To everything there is a season, an undying faith in a God who is good, with the wisdom far beyond my comprehension, has a plan that all makes sense.  Therefore I will trust.  That trust, if practiced, will eventually come without complaints and whining and self-pity.  Of that I am sure.